


Your Skin Is A Canvas

by brokendrums



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-17 14:52:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/552769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokendrums/pseuds/brokendrums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Niall has a sketchbook to write lyrics in and Zayn doodles on the margins. </p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Skin Is A Canvas

**Author's Note:**

> Based on this [prompt](http://diagona11y.livejournal.com/4195.html?thread=43875#t43875) in the ziall ficathon -

He gets the idea from Tom from McFly, taking any advice the man can give him, so he goes to the nearest W H Smiths and buys himself a plain notebook, a bright set of coloured pens. He stares at it for the majority of the time, mind going blank as he traces his fingers up the plastic spiral spine of the book and until the lines on the page blur together. But it's handy whenever something does spring into his mind, he doesn't have to hunt high and low for a scrap to write on and knowing him - probably lose it later - instead, scribbling down the half-lyric quickly so he can go back to sleep or return to the game of Fifa that Harry is currently trashing his ass at. 

  
The other boys notice him writing more often but don't say much. Louis and Harry tease him, ("You better not be moaning about us in your diary Niall.") and Liam enquires about it once, nosily peering over Niall's shoulder but that just makes panic twinge up Niall's spine so he haunches over the pages and doesn't let him see. 

  
"Not finished yet," Niall mutters in explanation, shoulders curled over the book and palm lying flat in the middle of the page to obscure the first verse. Liam just shrugs and goes on his merry way but Zayn gives him a reassuring smile from where he's sitting opposite and Niall has to swallow thickly because he has the sudden urge to either throw up or kiss the smile off his face.

  
He scribbles words out and scores out whole verses when he rereads them but even when the whole page is covered in thick black he never tears it out just in case he can go back later and slot it in with a certain chord he discovers late one night on the guitar. Most of it's rubbish, mushy romantic stuff that he thinks a pop song is supposed to sound like and silly rhymes that make him laugh when he's half drunk but the longer he sticks with writing the more personal and real it becomes. 

  
So when Zayn sits close to him in the car one morning and is able to read every word he writes Niall is full of nervous energy and bubbling anticipation. Zayn glances over at him, his thumb pressing into the corner of the page and a faint question in his eyes.  

  
"This ok?" He asks quietly because the others are still half asleep and he knows that Niall doesn't want any attention drawn to them or his writing. Niall feels his neck bend in a nod, as if on its own accord and Zayn just gives him that reassuring smile again and starts to read, the book spread between their thighs. 

  
He doesn't say much, just reads with a soft expression and doesn't comment on any of the lines that make Niall blush - which Niall is eternally grateful for. He sometimes helps him, humming out the tune so Niall can get a better feel for what he's writing and drawing little smiley faces beside bits he really likes. The other boys still don't get to read anything until it's finished. (Louis kicks up a fuss but Zayn just tells him calmly to fuck off and write his own songs, which makes Niall‘s stomach flutter.)

  
He finds that he actually quite likes that Zayn reads his stuff, his initial shyness turning into a nervous excitement to see if he likes it. He looks forward to seeing the little smiles in the margins, dotted across the pages and knows that it's just something shared between them. He doesn't mind when Zayn starts to doodle in the corners and across the expanse of white that he's left clear. He draws different things and if Niall's stuck on a line or word he sometimes just watches as Zayn's pen swirls over the paper in intricate designs. Sometimes, he draws little cartoon people, all different shapes and sizes until Niall has more googly eyed little men peering up at him than words on the page but most of the time Zayn sticks to his twirling shapes that mean nothing and look like mindless pretty patterns spread thickly across the paper. 

  
They're at the studio and it's early - Niall is still half asleep, slumped across the table. He has one palm keeping his head up and the other curled loosely around a pencil. Now that they're recording and there’s a slim chance that something out of his book could become a real life song, he's trying to write more but it's only serving to frustrate him. 

  
Zayn finishes his bit in the studio and Harry takes his place allowing Zayn to flop onto the sofa beside Niall and press in close. He pulls his pen out of his pocket and starts in the corner of the page, thick lines of indigo blue that stand out against the few words in Niall's black. Niall doesn't bother moving his hand, watching as Zayn traces around it, looping swirls larger and larger around a chorus Niall's been working on all morning. The nib hits his little finger and Zayn pauses for only a second before continuing on, ink soaking into Niall's skin as Zayn works his way up his finger and over his knuckle. It tickles and his skin tingles but he keeps his hand as still as he can manage. He lifts his gaze and watches Zayn's face, tongue licking across his lips and eyes cast down in concentration. 

  
Niall's sort of mesmerised and it's only when his eyes sting he realises that he's staring. By the time he looks down his whole hand is stained blue and Zayn is working around his wrist until he's pressing gently against the sensitive skin near his pulse point. He tails off a swirl and etches in a thick Z. He pauses and Niall can hear him take a breath before he continues on until his name is bright against the skin across his forearm. Niall's cheeks flame and he can't meet Zayn's eyes, just clears his throat softly and turns his attention back to his book, staring at the words on the page until he can hardly read them anymore. Zayn let's out a breathless chuckle, pen trailing down over the bone of his wrist until he can press it into the paper again and continue his doodle across the page as if nothing ever happened. 

  
Niall runs his fingers over the marks later in the shower before he washes them away, he can still feel the firm warmth of Zayn's palm against his and the sharp pressure of the pen and it makes his stomach churn at the memory. He pauses when he reaches the name and runs his wrist under the water but doesn't scrub at it like he did with the rest of the ink. His head sort of hurts at the thought that Zayn has marked him but he just doesn't have the heart to wash it away.

  
It fades until it's just a faint blue smudge but days later if turns his wrist a certain way in the light he can still make out the straight lines of Y and A tucked below the bracelet he's taken to wearing to hide it from everyone. 

  
He can't fool Zayn though. He twists his wrist easily and thumbs over his name one afternoon as they drive from Manchester to Leeds. Niall blushes crimson and he can hear the hitching breath Zayn lets out against his neck but neither of them say anything as Zayn’s fingers linger on Niall’s skin for a moment before he pulls back. Niall instantly misses the feeling of him pressed against him but he can't go far, he just settles back into the seat and turns to the window with a small smirk on his face. 

  
He does it again the next day, it's just them holed up in the corner of a chilly green room - the other three having disappeared a while ago. Zayn is curled beside him, head rested on his shoulder as Niall scribbles a few lyrics out on a crisp brand new page, leaving the whole right hand side free for Zayn. Zayn doesn't bother with the paper though, going straight for his wrist and painting over his name, darker than before, stark black against Niall's pale skin. 

  
Niall is still inhaling a shocked breath when Zayn kisses him. Soft and out of the blue and in a way that makes Niall's lungs short circuit. His hand comes up to cradle his jaw, thumb pressing into the corner of his mouth and pulling him around so he can get better access. The book lands on the floor with a thump, pens skittering across the carpet but neither of them move, Zayn just traces over Niall's lips with his tongue and kisses him until Niall feels light headed. 

  
"What was that for?" Niall chokes out when they pull back, fingers scrabbling for something to do and only finding Zayn's elbows to grip on to. He takes a few deep breaths against Zayn's lips and realises how hard his heart is beating. 

  
Zayn gives him a lazy smile, palm still cupping his chin. "Well I guessed you were never going to do it." 

  
Niall just swallows and tries not to over think it as he leans in and pulls Zayn into another kiss. Zayn just laughs against his skin and presses him into the arm of the sofa until Liam walks in on them twenty minutes later, tangled and sprawled across the cushions, Niall‘s hand rooted in Zayn‘s hair and his lips trailing up his jaw. He blushes profusely and stutters out an apology that neither of them really hear before he backs out of the room wide eyed leaving them to it. 

  
Hours later, just before they step on stage, Zayn sweeps his thumb over Niall's wrist and where his name is printed. Niall bites his lip and fights the urge to press Zayn against the drum riser and suck on his neck but Zayn breaks his stare, leaning in closer to whisper against the lobe of his ear. 

  
"Later." 

  
  



End file.
